Written.

Saturday, 12 October 2013

Gandalf's Inhaler

It’s funny how there is a table between us, a barrier

And there is.

I’m not sure he noticed it.

But I sure did and we keep drinking the remaining coffee and I see how my mother sees him within me. We don’t look identical, I just look like the next generation or maybe how he’d look like in this age with my Converse. I don’t think he’d ever wear them.

The reason why I had to transfer is not in anyone’s thoughts, some bad explanation was told and making a person come out is frankly illegal.

So I’m behind a year and dad doesn’t question why I don’t have a girlfriend and all the pride shirts are tucked away. Matt helps me get all the room tucked in to look as if I am a straight bloke and he even gets me a poster of a half naked lady which I want to put holes in with my cigarette.

Matt had always been here, I don’t know why I ever tried something which was rumored to be homophobic.

Matt is blowing bubbles as I wake up from a hangover the next morning and he is taking the piss, as all I hear is my ringing ears.

Maybe there should be no fear in coming out, who knows?

I’m not ready to shatter a dream which my parents hold, both of them on different sides of the barricade.

Everyone is in their own barricade, both mom and dad with their own lovers. I had left nearly after they had both broken it off.

To dad I’m sure I look like mom and I feel like I’m still nostalgia left which is unwanted. I had told Matt about it and I raise the topic again, waking up to the naked lady poster fully and I yank her off, Matt not commenting that I had ripped her in half.

We turn off the smoke detector both striking a cigarette each, putting cloth under the door so that the smoke doesn’t try to spread. Matt joins me, even if he can’t take my worries on his own shoulders.

Biology is dreadful, the whole memory that I had been tortured there, made me wonder if I could ever do biology again and I walk in, to see students and now I don’t even dare to wear a rainbow pin or talk about gay rights if someone asks again if homosexuality is real.

I heard last year that gays had XXY. And we’re supposed to be civil and accepting.

If we were this would have never happened, trans women wouldn’t be called men and lesbians wouldn’t be called straight.

There’s too many of us and too many who are scarred for life who threaten us with their own fears.

I’ve heard a lot before even entering this squeaky clean classroom, like the rumors, being in a boarding school makes rumors more intense as everyone starts knowing everyone and pretty much the same joint gets passed around with no one telling anyone, coz well, you live under the same roof.

So I’ve heard about the other teacher who seems to be hitting on Mr. Turner, I had seen her in the morning with her puffy lips and long brown hair. She gave me shivers, of course being gay, women give me shivers sometimes, because I am expected to be jerking off to them, when I don’t.

And women like Miss Vanderberg creep me out, every single blind date I’ve had were will similiar air headed women who would talk about how much they had wanted to be actresses and they are the ones blokes go for, blindly, because they’re so stupid they can be blend easily into the background.

So it feels awful already with Biology and I know that there’s this horror of a gender, some say they even had sex and they had seen Mr. Turner buy condoms in Boots, but we’re not really allowed outside too often, so out of fear if you sneaked out, I’m sure Harry Potter would look like Mr. Turner in fear of getting caught.

I press my head against the table, knowing that Matt is not here and I can’t really make friends, Matt somehow still standing me.

People said Mr. Turner is fucking gorgeous, he’s supposedly one of those teachers students go stalking in the back and bang on his office door. He is good looking but he looks fucking lost, putting on a lab coat and looking at the ceiling for a bit.

He is attractive, but he looks horribly lost and stares at the clock waiting for the exact second before he turns around to all of us and starts talking flicking his own text book open, which looks relatively new.

“So how was everyone’s weekend?” Turner asks, standing up again and turning on the computer to get the slides up.

Summer which was too long and stretched into autumn involved putting a paper bag over my head and having paranoia about getting myself revealed. I kept texting Matt all the time and discussing numerous men I’ve found hot, trying not to talk to anyone from my previous college, everyone is homophobic anyway and I didn’t want to think of it, anyway.

I felt as if I was crawling up the walls, everyone besides Matt not following what the fuck was going on with all the complaints and I’ve never felt like screaming that I’m gay to all my relatives as they pass the salad around in circles until it’s gone and everyone asks me when the hell I’m I going to get a girlfriend and that I should stop being picky.

I even managed to go to Matt’s for the weekend and I slept on the floor, him actually watching Velvet Goldmine with me.

It had been torturous and I wondered if I should be open, sometimes I’d have conversations with myself if I can be openly gay or not.

I wonder if he has people who keep knocking on his office door while he drinks his coffee or arranges the organs right into the plastic body. I wonder how many girls do this and if guys do it as well.

I wonder who else is openly gay here.

I look behind me, as he starts talking about the human cell. I don’t remember anything and frankly the fact that I failed bummed out all my memories of biology and made me wonder if I’m actually crap and when he asks simple questions about the membrane, why is a fluid mosaic

All I think of

Is that I had that question and it freaked the shit out of me, coz I was ready for some other crap, not the damn fluid mosaic which I flicked through. Shouldn’t they have asked about something else like the Citric Cycle and that nothing which was done an accent on, didn’t appear.

It was all fucked up.

And I keep blaming myself coz-

I ended up paranoid through out the entire lesson.

“You ok?” Turner asks me, as everyone leaves and I’m still sticking my stuff into my bag. He sees that I’m silent and I’m sure I’m pretty pale and knackered. Why did I even take Biology again? “I mean, you did transfer rather late. If you need anything, just poke me.”

My mouth goes dry.

Do I say I was bullied by my previous teacher? Do I say something was fucking fishy in the entire thing and all the foreigners failed?

I feel guilty coz in the eyes of the government I am the bloody culprit and so in the eyes of education, I am no one, so I am the culprit.

“Yeah, sorry about that-” I don’t know what else to say. Maybe I should’ve worn my pin again or some bizarre ear stud. I don’t know. I really don’t.

I feel awfully stuck and I wish I hadn’t taken biology. I don’t know what to tell him. Instead I just smile and he starts picking up all the scattered pencils. I wonder what lead him to be a teacher, he looks too young and it’s as if it doesn’t match him, I could see him being a GP though only he’s missing the wedding ring and the expected face.

I even dropped the complaint with no one caring about homophobia or the racism all foreign students received. I’m not even sure I’ll even like Mr. Turner. I mean, how can I know who is a homophobe and who isn’t?

How can I know who voted Cameron and who didn’t?

Not unless they tell me the truth and that fucking scares me, if I’m scared to come out to my own fucking family, of course I’ll be scared to come out to the fucking world.

“Yeah, I know, I transferred late.” I say, I just pop the water balloon in my hand, letting the water slip away. “I have a bunch of homophobic incidents.”

Turner’s shoulders tense up and he turns around from the back of the class, surprised.

“Which college was that?” I tell him the name and he looks at me shocked, not saying anything. He goes back to the front of the class, sits down and looks at the ceiling.

“Don’t worry, I promise you, I won’t go bullying students. I mean, technically that would be bullying myself.” He smirks and I just stare at him. All my body is still shaking from all the stress, the thoughts, the blame, the guilt even putting the ink in my head and I look at him. He doesn’t look too gay, I mean, he doesn’t look gay, maybe if I concentrated a lot, maybe my gaydar would pick him up, but it doesn’t. Maybe he’s bi or something?

“But that’s fucking shocking, didn’t they get like an award or something?” Turner continues asking me and I just shrug with my shoulders, wanting to leave and cry. I always feel guilty and it fucking kills me.

“F- Ah, screw them, you’ll be fine here, I promise you. Miles, right?” Turner asks me and stands up to pat me on the shoulder. I quickly glance at his dark brown eyes, they resemble mine a bit, well, we’ve both got a common dark colour and I nod, really wanting to get out.

As soon as I get out, thanking him I head outside behind the school, not even glancing if there’s anyone and I light a cigarette before starting to cry, he’s just a damn teacher and well, I’ve got no guarantee he won’t keep his word and anyone can lie about being gay or bi, so there.

I’m a fucking moron.

I don’t call Matt, knowing that he’s tired of listening to this, I think everyone is.

-

In the height of Coming Out Day, I decided to publish this. I've got a few chapters written and I pretty much wrote this for a few days, being immersed in the story.

I guess, for me, Coming Out Day, looking back was a nightmare, where I had left the class shaking. Coming Out Day for me was like the start of the mechanism of homophobia I'd have for the rest of the year.

Why this story? Because frankly it wasn't in Biology where I was bullied, but it's a long story and the sad thing is, I was ignored in the end.

I had the idea of doing Alex as a Sex Ed teacher for the fuck of it and well, I figured a Biology teacher would be doing that, right? So I really struggled with having Biology here, as frankly I am still slapped in the face from it and in general, well, I am out of education. It is shocking. I've had racism, homophobia and transphobia in one year from numerous people.

It was fucking disgusting.

It's hard when you're bullied for being who you are, but that doesn't mean and never will that it is your fault.

Writing this story with Miles' experiences being close to my own has helped me face my fears in a way.

And I guess this can be a better Coming Out Day. I just hope the best for myself now and I do hope if you are coming out, that people will be accepting and caring.

Frankly, this is the only so far angsty chapter, the whole story was also thought around the next chapter, so yeah xD

Happy Coming Out Day, please have a better one than I did last year:)

Also what inspired me to post it today was that, I know that a lot of Milex writers are straight and that's cool, but well, sometimes it makes me cringe when people really stereotype them or try to make them straight. I mean, yeah. Rant over :)

P.S. a few hours later, I came up with the title. Why Gandalf's? Well, that's why you need the next chapter XD

THANK YOU!!!JCJHSDCHJDSC I think we all LGBT people have to be brave and face a lot of things and many things are unfortunately not displayed to the public, so for instance no one is aware of how fucked up the educational system is. Miles in this story helped me gain myself back as well, so this story helped me with it's bravery as well:) Thank you so much for seeing me as one, I am really am speechless as when you live with the results of discrimination which had affected you, you just forget that you are brave, because for me it became what my life is right now, going back to loving myself and as any victim, it is a hard step to understand that you're not at guilt because our society is fucked. Thank you so much for your kind words and I hope my stories will continue to inspire people and yourself:3Please keep checking there will be a new chapter up soon:3 <3<3<3<3<3<3<3

Writing just seems to be the form where examples are the simplest and situations the realest.

My frustration is the fuel which my characters face and just limiting the value of my writing to good prose is Kubrick cutting the end of A Clockwork Orange to make a shallow movie about violence.

My work is my anger and everyone's anger at ignorance at those who will limit anyone to the background.

The further work is not about love, love is the aid to get us through society which we've created, born into and have to struggle with every day.

And love is the fuel, the fuel to the anger which I have to bear for being queer and deviant.

And I am not a love story. I am not something to cry over. I am something which should make you realize if you are at a privileged position that you should make a change, if you are discriminated, that you are not alone, that we should all have this fuel and should never just be limited to love.

Because our anger is valid.

We became our anger, so that the love will not only nourish us now, but later when all is done and we are no longer deviant to a society who hates itself.

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Fanfiction legal disclaimer

I do not own any of the character, band or other names based off real persons and groups; they served only as inspiration for my characters in the stories, whose rights I own. The works published herein and elsewhere by me are entirely fictional, and any resemblance to real life events is merely coincidental. No libel or slander is intended.